


Old Friends

by Jaderade



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Badass Arya, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaderade/pseuds/Jaderade
Summary: A little reunion fic. Set after the end of series 7, with a little bit of timeline change. Some fluff with Gendry and Arya.





	1. The Pack

_…the pack survives…_

Arya was still pondering her father’s words, just spoken by Sansa. Alone now, she gazed down on Winterfell, singed and still burnt a bitt here and there - just holding on from breaking. It may be weak, but Sansa was here. Bran was home, and Jon would be home soon. A smile, however small, started at her lips at the thought of seeing her favorite brother after so many years apart.

 _Yes_ , she allowed herself to hope, despite her training and years of disappointment; _soon this will be home again._

Glancing up towards the North, towards Jon and the Wall, Arya closed her eyes for a moment against the falling snow and biting winds. In that moment she willed her brother to come home. The pack would be together again. She felt it in her bones, in a place so deep the cold could never penetrate. 

A deep breathe out, as if sending her will in place of a raven, and she opened her eyes against the harsh winds of winter bearing down on the parapet. A quick look down showed the nearly frozen body of Littlefinger lying on the ground of the courtyard. Large quarters of chopped wood being piled near him and kindling being rounded up.

 _A man must burn_ , a voice inside Arya pronounced, _Valar Morghulis and the Kindly Man would be appeased._

With a shake of her head Arya turn and walked back to her room. The House of Black and White may not have claimed her, but it was hard to put aside her life and practice from the last few years. She knew it made Sansa uncomfortable; probably more than that, she had seen the fear and repulsion in Sansa’s eyes when they discussed her training as a Faceless Man. Arya knew she was a Stark, a wolf, knew it better than anything else, but muscle memory was hard to counter act.

She paused a moment in her path at Bran’s door. _What were he and the fat one talking about?_ Jon’s friend from the Wall, or was it Oldtown, had been in with Bran for hours now. Arya snuck silently to the door and leaned in. 

“…just now on his way back with Daenerys, we must hold off…”

“Yes, yes. I agree. We’ll wait til he’s back and…it’s just he’s been through so much. He’s a strong man, but this? It….I just hope the tidings bring him joy and not more pain. Gilly thought th-“

“Arya? 

Arya straightened back from the door; she hadn’t made a sound, not even a breath. How had Bran discovered her? She quickly glanced around the barren hall and eyed the closed door once more. She was intrigued and hated to back away from something that seemed to be about Jon, but she wasn’t ready to face Bran. Especially as the ThreeEyed Raven. She stepped surefooted away from the door and continued to her room. There was a man to burn, a sister to comfort, and now that she and Nymeria were once again connected, a wolf to warg into.

***

The moon was nearly full overhead and the icy breath of wind howled against the stone keep of Winterfell. Sansa was in a happy mood, which Arya was glad to see, a little warm wine and a raven from the Wall informing the hold that Jon was indeed safe and coming back to Winterfell with the dragon queen. Dinner had been quick but festive with the knowledge that they would all be reunited again, and soon. Bran had even smiled for a moment and Sansa wouldn’t stop holding his hand, sensing that mayhaps his mind was thawing from the coldness of being one with the ThreeEyed being. Bran had swept his cold eyes over to Arya’s once or twice during the meal, his was of letting her knew she had been near his door. Arya just rolled her eyes and hoped that whatever part of Bran that was still in there, could tell she neither cared nor worried about his knowledge.

Arya kicked at a stone on the ground near her, she was bored. _Couldn’t they just light the fire, toss Baelish in and be done with it?_ She looked over at Sansa and squinted closely at Sansa’s eyes. There was a shimmer to her wide blue eyes. Arya took a moment to appraise her older sibling, the one everyone considered the beautiful Stark. She was beautiful, and more than that even, she was regal. While Arya was unwashed and wearing her woven jerkin, tunic, and breeches, Sansa smelled of the lemon peels and the soft flower petals that she bathed in. She looked every bit the Lady of Winterfell with her heavy dark dress fitted to her curves and woven through with simmering silver thread. Her hair was freshly washed and floated in the passing winds like a fiery halo. Arya’s dirty dark hair hung heavy against her head, and looking at Sansa’s easy beauty made her head itch.

“Can we do this already?” Arya asked impatiently, blowing a deep sigh that rattled against her lips like a horse whinny.

“Soon.” Sansa’s eyes still glistened with emotion, but her voice was steel. Arya’s silent smile hit her lips with a bit of pride at her sister’s internal metal. They were still getting used to each other, but with each moment Arya was appreciating her sister more. “We need to just wait for the flint and a spark once the winds die down.”

Arya took a step closer and slipped her hand into her sister’s. A look of shock crossed Sansan’s face and her head snapped down to her own hand and quickly up the arm to her little sister’s face. They shared a smile that grew as the winds broke for a moment of silence and then the sharp hiss of sparks engulfing the kindling. Most of the crowd, including Bran and Jon’s big friend Sam, that had joined to see the treasonous traitor burned started to back away as the body began to take heat and sizzle and crack. Sansa turned her head away into Arya’s shoulder and gagged at the smell and sounds of human flesh turning to dust and ash. Arya had no such trouble. This was nothing new for a Faceless Man. She held Sansa close and only started to turn away when Sansa’s begging and pleading shook her back to her Stark self. _You are Arya Stark. Of Winterfell. A wolf, not a Faceless Man._  

Just as she has begun to furrow her brow and turn with Sansa back to the warmth of their rooms a horn sounded by the lookout at the gate. One horn. A solo rider? Friend or foe?

 


	2. Mysterious Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's at the gate?

*** 

A giant knight appeared in the courtyard with a smaller man at her heels, Brienne of Tarth and… _Podrick_ , Arya reminded herself. The woman knight was a favorite of Arya’s to practice with in the yard. Lady Brienne bowed quickly in front of Arya and Sansa, “My ladies, may I escort you to the hall until we have determined the nature of the visit?” Brienne meant it as a question, but like most things she said, it came out gruff and like a demand.

“Take Lady Sansa to the hall, I’ll join you once _I_ determine the nature of our guest.” Arya responded with a quick glance at both Sansa and Brienne. For a moment it looked like the strong woman was going to resist, but she’d already had enough stare downs with Arya to know simply to nod and do as she was bid, “As my lady commands.”

With the knowledge that Pod, Brianne, and Sansa were well on their way to safety, Arya made her way to the look out’s post above the gate.

 _Why was it just one?_ The rider and the horse both looked exhausted. They were close to the gate now, but moving slowly. They had obviously come from the North; the rider was wearing the furs of a Wildling. _Could it be news of Jon?_ Arya thought. She had been happy to find Sansa and Bran when she made her way back to Winterfell, overjoyed actually. It had shaken her back to herself and forced her to remember the young girl who once called Winterfell home, but she would be lying if she hadn’t initially come back in the hopes of seeing her brother Jon. To discover that she had arrived just a few short days after he had shipped off to Dragonstone had disappointed her more than she knew was still possible. The raven today had been the first word that he was safe and coming home since Jon had made his foolhardy trek North of the Wall.

As Arya kept a steady eye, the rider came closer. “Bring down the gate and let him in,“ She commanded. The rider looked weak, if they meant harm, they would provide none and there was no backup in the distance, nothing but more snow and cold wind. Arya raced down to the gate, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. Her nerves were tingling for some unknown reason and she was on edge for the first time in a long time. There was something about the bulk of the man under the layers of Northern fur arriving at their door. Her keen senses had been honed and crafted over the past few years at the service of the Stranger. There was something she was missing, she could feel it and it was pushing her faster to meeting the visitor at the gate.

“Halt!” “Announce yourself” yells from the Knights at the gate were tossed at the man on the horse, but no reply came.

Arya pushed past the armed Knights standing idly by and, pulling Needle from its sheath, walked straight up to the strange rider. “Oy! Good sir, if you don’t want to die you had better show your papers or share with us your mission.” Arya fiercely commanded the man in the hooded furs, she saw his breath as a puff in the air, as though he was trying to speak, but no words came out. She leaned in closer and pointed Needle high on the man’s thigh and threatened, "I sharpened this blade before breakfast. I could nick this artery in your leg. And once it's nicked, no one around here knows how to un-nick it."

The rider pushed out another breath of frozen air and started to slip off the horse, Arya pulled pack her blade and sheathed it quickly and motioned for help. One of her men grabbed the horse’s reins and another came to help her guide the large rider to the ground. The man was nearly frozen, his teeth chattering in his bearded face. The long whiskers on his face and the tightly sheered ones on his head were dark as soot and his dark lashes were nearly frosted close, but his sharp cheekbones seemed familiar to Arya. She stared hard at the man lying in front of her and knelt at his side. She felt a tug deep inside. A memory wanting to surface that had been pushed down. Some flicker of a former self. But where? She had been so many selves. Was it a man she met in Braavos? No, this was deeper and older. Arya closed her eyes to help search her mind and only opened them when a weak coughing fit roused their visitor.

When the fit subsided, a weak and shaky voice mumbled, “Still…picking on people bigger than…bigger…than you, I see.” And Arya’s heart dropped, she knew that voice and that small weak smirk. Her eyes swept from the dark-haired man’s lips to his eyes that were flickering open. He was weak, dirty, and older, but there was no denying those bright blue eyes.

“Gendry?!” Arya whispered in shock and confusion.

“…mi’lady…” Gendry got out before his face went slack and his head fell lifeless to the side.

 _NO_ , even in her shock there was no way that Arya was going to let Gendry just walk back into her life and die like that. “Help! Someone get Sam, prepare a room. This man must be taken with the utmost care.” Arya yelled her commands in a panic and for a moment everyone in the courtyard stared, not used to this behavior from the typically cool and collected woman.

“Did you not hear? I’m commanding you. Get him into a warm room and get the maester to him at once!” Arya’s voice held no room for disobedience and everyone jumped as bid. Two knights near her grabbed Gendry’s large frame and with a bit of trouble began to carry him into the castle.

“Take care.” Arya yelled after them. She looked around until she saw young page, “Take his Garron to the stable and make sure it is brushed down and fed.”

“Yes, my lady.” Arya heard it but barely acknowledged it. _Could it truly be Gendry?_ She bit her lower lip and considered her options. There was a chance that the boy who she had once thought to be her only friend in the world had come back to her, or it could be a gift from the Kindly Man for leaving her post at the House of Black and White. Arya had never known this to be a sweet world. For some reason she had Sansa, Bran, Winterfell, Nymeria, and perhaps, Jon back. _Is this really the sort of world that would give her Gendry back too?_

The night swirled around her, smelling of burnt flesh, frost, and old sweat on furs. Arya scratched her itchy head and then brought the hand down to rub her worried brow. She took one last look out at the vast nothing that Gendry had road in from.

“Raise the gate and alert me if there are any more riders or ravens. I’ll be with our visitor.” Arya turned away from the gate and was already speeding into the castle when she heard a muffled affirmative response.

 


	3. Seeking Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya tried to determine if the stranger is who he appears to be

Arya rushed down the stone hall, looking in various rooms until she discovered the one containing Sam leaning over a fur covered bed. She paused at the door, suddenly remembering herself. Taking stock of her entire body she realized that her heart was jumping around in her chest far more than it should have for a brisk walk through the castle. Her right hand shook as she moved it above her fluttering heartbeat, pressing down hard against her ribs to stall both her heart and hand. She threw her back quietly against the cold stone of the hallway by the door's entrance. Shaking her head and taking a moment to breathe in, closing her eye and slowly releasing her breathe. _Why was she so out of sorts? So Gendry, or someone taking on his face, had appeared suddenly at Winterfell after years apart. What of it? Bran and Sansa had returned safe and alive, why not Gendry. Was it_ truly _him, though?_ Arya blinked her eyes open, lifting her now more steady hand from its place on her chest she felt determined. She would check in on the stranger. She was duty bound as a Stark of Winterfell to determine the safety of their guest. 

Pushing her hips off the wall she turned back towards the room. Arya felt her hand drop to the hilt of Needle out of habit and surveyed the room. It was dark, just a small fire in the hearth and a smattering of candles lit Sam’s work over the bed. She hovered in the shadows but moved around the room to get a better view of the stranger on the bed. Sam had removed some of the furs their guest had arrived in and settled them near the fire. There was a small puddle building from the drips of frost and snow slowly melting in the warm room. It wasn’t one of their finer rooms, small, a bit burnt, but with the soft, flickering lights of the candles it could be considered comfortable.

“He is fine, my lady. Just exhausted, frozen, and probably needs to eat something,” Sam spoke without turning to her, “I gave him some milk of the poppy. He’s resting now, but will need a meal when he wakes. Probably a warm bath wouldn’t hurt him either.” Sam added with a sniff. He turned to her finally and gave her a slight smile from his pudgy face. Jon’s friend, she thought. She should really be kinder to him, if for only that.

Arya gave him a hint of a smile and walked closer. “Did he say anything? Where he came from? Any message?” She said all this while avoiding looking at the body on the bed. Better to stare at the fire, or the shadows of flames bouncing off the wall, Gods, even pudgy Sam’s face then deal with the ghost in the bed. Her fingers clenched and relaxing over the edge of her sword to calm her.

“He was mumbling a few things, Lady Arya, but nothing that made much sense. I believe that we’ll all know more once he awakens.” Sam stared at her searchingly for a moment and opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it, thinking better of it. “He’ll be fine. I’m going to bring more milk of poppy for when he wakes, but I’ll leave you for the moment...Shall I send a knight to guard the door?” Arya was sure there were a few trying to track her and the strange visitor down already, “No, Sam, there’s no need for a guard at the moment. Thank you. Goodnight.” He gave her a slight bow, much to Arya’s annoyance before he turned to leave the room. Rolling her eyes she inadvertently caught a glimpse of the bed and the body resting upon it.

And now that she looked she couldn’t stop. Her brow furrowed as memories tried to surface. Memories of a young boy with messy black hair that hung in his eyes. A bullheaded, soot covered boy holding a hammer. How he would raise the hammer high above his head and bring it down sure and hard. The first time Arya had seen him do it she had flinched, the sound of metal on metal so familiar from her sword play and yet, so different. She remember trying to take the hammer from the boy’s hands, prove to herself that she was just as strong, and it had simply pulled and fell to the ground – nearly pulling her down with it. The boy, the stupid boy, had laughed at her and she remembered her rage and embarrassment. She remembered pushing the boy and how it had just made him laugh harder.

He wasn’t laughing now. Arya moved closer. He was pale and didn't look like he was even breathing, but he shivered a bit now and then, so she knew he was living. He looked different. The full beard, bushy and black hid most of him, but couldn’t hide the sharp cheekbones rising just above the line of darkness obscuring the bottom half of his face. His messy hair was gone, shorn to the quick, but his dark hair was already growing back in thick and angry. Her eyes glanced down at the thick darkness on his chest, no longer a smooth boy; he was even larger than she remembered. Broad chest, now bare with no furs or tunic to cover it, he nearly took up the entire bed. Arya noted the muscles as every now and then a shiver would run through him causing him to flex and release as he battled sleep and the milk of poppy.

She looked away suddenly, feeling unsure if she should be looking this closely at a sleeping man’s body. Sure, she had seen many a man, and woman for that matter, in various states of undress during her service to the Many-Faced God. She witnessed all the things those bodies do and how they moved with cold hard distance and surgical focus. But Gendry, if this was he, had been before that. And looking at him reminded Arya of a different girl who spent indifferent days and nights next to a shirtless boy who definitely wouldn’t approve of such intense gaze. It wasn’t right without him awake. She moved a step closer and her thighs touched the edge of the bed near his shoulder. Arya closed her eyes and made a silent wish, to whom she couldn’t say, wishes had always been something for girls like Sansa. Girls who dreamt of Princes and dances and never-ending summers, but nevertheless, Arya wished. With closed eyes, she reached her hand over the broad shoulder until she felt the harsh prickle of his beard. She feathered her fingers over the beard tracing the subtle hint of his jaw up to the spot where his ear began and paused. Arya held her breath and drew her lower lip between her teeth before fluttering her fingers around to search.

There was no seam, no flap, no whisper of a fold to indicate a faceless man. Arya opened her eyes and brought her face in a bit closer, she could feel the warmth his body gave off, smell the dried sweat and leather and a hint of cold still clinging to his skin. But Arya had to be sure. She poked and pushed the skin by his ear, squinting and trying to see anything suspicious, tugging at his ear and pushing it down to check behind it, just in case.

“Oy,” A swift hand swept up and nearly hit Arya in the face; it would have if she hadn’t sensed it and moved out of the way. Her hand wasn’t quite as quick and the larger hand was able to grip tightly around her thin wrist before she could pull away, “whass wiff...all that.” 

Arya’s eye went wide as the hand pulled her left wrist towards his chest, her right hand immediately at her sword. Her eyes darted to Gendry’s but noticed that his were still closed. Mumbling incoherently, Gendry smacked his lips and shifted a bit but otherwise he was still sleeping. Only now Arya’s left hand was clenched tightly in his. The dark curls on his chest were surprisingly soft, but Arya was more concerned with her small frame being pulled over his body at an awkward angle. And her left arm being held hostage by Gendry’s stupidly strong arm. Nostril’s flaring she bared down on her heels and twisted her wrist just so…only to have his grip tighten and pull her a bit closer. Annoyed Arya was about to just punch him, and was pulling her fist up to do so, when she heard a rustling at the door.

Glancing over quickly and pulling back her fist, she saw the willowy form of her sister Sansa and Brienne, as always, just behind.

“Arya, what are you doing?” Sansa’s face was a mask of disapproval. Eyebrow raised, and arms crossed, she looked the very image of their mother.

“What?” Arya responded as innocently as she could, while twisted over the body of a strange man. She looked down at her hand place on his bare chest and looked back at Sansa with a laugh, “Sansa, he gripped my hand in his sleep. Sam gave him milk of the poppy. I came in to check on him, and..well, I’m stuck.”

Sansa looked unimpressed with Arya’s explanation. Arya rolled her eyes and gestured with her free right hand, “Well if you’re going to judge, could you at least help me.”

Sighing deeply, Sansa shook her head and uncrossed her arms. “Arya…” She seemed to be searching for words as she walked near Arya to examine her predicament, “Who even is this man? Why is he here?”

Arya waited to answer, she wasn’t sure how to respond. She knew that it was Gendry, but not why he was here, or his intentions. It’d been nearly 5 years since she’d last seen him, in those years she had become a faceless man, who knew what he had become.

“Arya?” Sansa was quieter this time, closer to her sister’s face and trying to read it. Arya forced herself to relax to her neutral pose, allowing nothing to be betrayed. Sansa pursed her lips, “Fine, keep your secrets for the moment. But it’s best no one besides me and Brienne sees you fondling a strange man in his sleep.”

“I was-this isn’t—you are…” Arya sputtered as a small smirk lit Sansa’s face.

Sansa then leaned over Gendry’s chest to see how Arya’s hand was caught. She looked back at Arya with the smirk still in place and whispered conspiratorially, “Not a bad chest to be stuck to.” Arya felt her cheeks grow warm and growled. “Alright, little wolf, no need to pout, simply stating the truth. But let’s free you, before you decide you have to bite your way out.”

After a quick assessment, Sansa brought her fingers to the pulse point on Gendry’s wrist and fluttered her fingers there quickly. For a brief moment his grip loosened on Arya’s wrist and she twisted herself free. She and Sansa both pulled back quickly from the bed, Arya cradling her left wrist in her right hand as they both watched Gendry’s hand grasp in the air a few times before settling itself back on his chest. Sansa turned to leave and noticed that Arya was still standing in place. 

“Come now, Arya. I’ll have Brienne fetch a few guards for the door. Are you hurt? Do we need to find Sam?” Sansa moved to Arya and touched her shoulder, Arya jumped from her spot and looked away from the bed to meet Sansa’s eyes. She forced a smile to her face.

“No, that’s fine. I’m fine. Sorry, just out of sorts is all.” Arya turned to the door and began to follow her sister out of the room still clenching her wrist – it was tingling from Gendry’s touch. _Probably the lack of circulation,_ she told herself as they walked out, turning one last time to look back at Gendry – _Gendry_ – on the bed in Winterfell. She shook her head and repeated, “I’m fine. Just a strange day.”


	4. Chapter 4

Arya was finally in the shelter of her room. She had convinced Sansa and Brienne that the stranger would be no worry to them, simply saying that she had met the man before and had once offered him safety at Winterfell. Sansa had wanted more details, but luckily for Arya, had refrained from pressing her sister more. Brienne was still wary and had send guards to not only Gendry’s door, but to Bran, Sansa, and Arya’s doors.

Pursing her lips, Arya huffed at annoyance at being treated like Sansa and Bran. She was sure that Gendry posed no threat to her; even if he did mean to harm them, she could easily take one man. A weak and frozen man at that. Arya toed her boots off by the fire in her hearth and absently rubbed her left wrist. Ok, so a semi-strong and frozen man. And he had only been able to grab her wrist because of her distracted state. Seeing his familiar face after so long apart had thrown Arya more than she liked to admit. _And he’s just as stubborn as he ever was._ Thinking on the smirk that had briefly touched his lips brought a smile to her own.

Arya shook her head. _What a silly child to think a man means you no harm because of a remembered smirk. He could have gutted you as you smiled._ Arya pulled out Needle and fell into her dancer’s pose. She made her way through several practiced routines, before setting Needle down and pulling her small blades from the shaft at the small of her back and the small pocket in her sleeve. She swept the blades through the air fighting invisible opponents until she was dripping with sweat and a bit sore.

Feeling once again like herself, Arya stripped to her smallclothes wiping her sweat away with her tunic before dropping it to the ground. She slipped a clean linen shift over her head and walked to the window. There was a deep darkness and calm that came with winter. Arya shivered at the crisp air near the window hitting her drying sweat. Braavos had weakened her to the cold and she hated herself for allowing it. Pushing herself to ignore the shivers and cold and focus on the distant howls.

Since her brief encounter with Nymeria her ability to slip into the wolves skin had intensified. Before she had only been able to sink into the mind of the she-wolf in her sleep. But now, she found she simply had to focus, let me mind reach out and relax until they were one.

***

Arya woke curled on the floor by the window, cold and stiff. The taste of blood and sinew lingered on her tongue. A smile curled on her lips as she remembered sharing the deer carcass with her smaller gray brothers. The hunt had been long, winter had driven much of the game further south, but the pack had caught a scent and then it was just a matter of time. She remembered the times when she had been in Braavos and through Nymeria had reunited with Ghost.

It had been a long time since she had seen Ghost in the woods with Nymeria. _Did Jon ever slip into Ghost?_ She would ask him when he returned. Bran was a raven now, maybe he could join as well and they could hunt together, then her pack would truly feel complete. The smile faded from her face as her thoughts turned to Sansa. She could try and explain it to Sansa, but whenever Bran tried to share one of his visions Sansa’s brow would worry. And Sansa had held it together when Arya told her about being a Faceless Man, but the repulsion had been evident in her eyes.

Pulling up her breeches and starting to lace up a soft leather jerkin Arya thoughts drifted to the man who arrived last night. _Sansa will have more questions today and I should be able to provide her with answers._ She didn’t want to hide more things from her sister. Sansa had been lied to, traded, tortured, and abused. Arya wanted more than anything to give her comfort and truth – at least where she was able to be honest.

With practiced hands Arya pulled on her boots; slipped a dagger into her boot, one in her sleeve pocket, a third at her back, and lastly buckled her belt and sheathed Needle. Once again ready for the day, she made her way down to check on her old friend.


	5. Chapter 5

Arya nodded at the two Northern guards at the door, one informing her that Maester Tarly had just left the room. She thanked them for the news and walked in, making sure to close the door tight behind her. A cursory glance at the bed told Arya that Gendry was still under the spell of the milk of the poppy, and the bottle was now settled on a side table. The room was chilled and the fire was out in the hearth. Arya reached the stone fireplace and filled it with wood and kindling, restarting it herself with the bit of flint next to it. _No use sending for a page, but I should send word to fill a bath_. Arya thought to herself as she prodded the fire a bit to grow the flames. The tiny hairs at the back of her neck rose and she shivered quickly despite the heat. Arya stood quickly, straightening her back, her right hand finding her hilt. She felt suddenly shy as she turned to look at the bed.

Her silvery eyes met deep blue ones fringed in thick black lashes. _Had they always been this blue?_ It was a color hard to describe, almost like the color of the middle of the sea. She felt for a moment like she was drowning and swallowed hard. Her tongue felt heavy and too large for her mouth. _Why did he just stare at her?_ She realized that she hadn’t looked away from his gaze either and she raised an eyebrow.

A weak smile hit his lips and his sea blue eyes softened. “So, it is you. Truly?”

“Well, I suppose that depends on who you think I am.” Arya relaxed her stance, releasing her fingers from her sword and placing her hands on her hips.

“There was a boy named Arry, and a cup-“ Gendry cleared his throat, “a cupbearer named Weasle, a tiny girl named Squab…” Another pause as Gendry swallowed hard in his weakened state. _A girl was also the Ghost of Harrenhal, Cat of the Canals, Blind Beth…a girl could have been No One, but he probably didn’t want to know about those girls._

Arya smirked at his playful gesture, “You shouldn’t try to be witty when you can barely breath. It’s a stupid thing to do.” She walked over to the side table and poured him a glass of water. Allowing a small genuine smile to touch her lips while her back was to him, _he had come back for her_. She turned back to him with the smirk back in place, walking over with the water. “Do you think you’re strong enough to hold it yourself?”

Gendry pushed himself up a bit in the bed with a grunt. Arya quickly sat the glass down next to him and moved to grip his arm to help him sit up. His arm was strong, she felt his muscles flex under her touch, and he was warm. Arya found herself looking at his bare chest as the furs on the bed fell to his waist. She quickly moved back to his water and tried to stop the fiery blush that was rising up her chest to her cheeks. She handed him the glass while avoiding his gaze, “The fire’s too warm, don’t you think?”

There was a slight choking sound and Arya looked back up at Gendry. He held up a hand to indicate he was fine and took another sip of water. He smiled, “Lady Arya of Winterfell, we meet at last.”

Arya felt a giddy smile overtake her and she leaned in to hug him tightly. Not caring that she knocked the glass of water in his hand and water splashed over both of them. Her arms touched behind his neck and she squeezed her face into his neck ignoring his scratchy beard and musky smell of sweat and sleep. His free arm wrapped nearly all the way around her and pulled her up against his chest. “I’m only letting you get away with the lady bit because I thought you were surly dead.” She whispered and he let out a hearty laugh that shook his entire body and her with it. A wide smile was on her face as she laughed and pulled back to look at his eyes.

Their bodies were too close and she ended up knocking the water glass from his hand with her elbow. The loud crash only made Arya and Gendry laugh louder. It also alerted the guards and the door to the room was pushed open by a worried Brienne.

“My lady?” Brienne’s sword point fell as she moved from an attack stance to one of confusion as she took in Arya wiping tears from her eyes, while she and Gendry tried to slow their laughter.

“It’s fine Brienne.” She took in a deep breath to contain her glee. Still smiling Arya continued, “This is Ser Gendry Waters, a knight with the Brotherhood Without Banners. He’s an old friend, and he’s finally realized how much he missed me and has come to Winterfell.” Arya turned to Gendry to find that he had moved in bed to sit up straighter and had a more serious look on his face. “Gendry?”

Gendry gave Arya a quick smile at her questioning look, but then turned to Brienne, “Brienne of Tarth?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You are needed. I, umm-“ Gendry stopped to look around the room, his eyes finally stopping on his dried furs by the fire. “I have a parchment in my coat from with a message from the Wall.”

_The Wall? Why was Gendry at the Wall? Was it Jon?_ Arya was still a bit shook by this turn about.

“We had just received word from the Wall. Jon is safe and coming back with the dragon queen.” Arya’s brow furrowed. Trying to figure out what was happening. Brienne was at Gendry’s furs searching for the parchment.

Gendry reached out a hand to grasp Arya, he gave her a soft smile, “Jon is fine. He’s safe.” Raising his voice a little so that Brienne could hear too, “I have news from King Jon and Queen Daenerys. You’ll want to share that with Lord Bran and Lady Sansa, and we should probably gather the Lords of the North.”

Brienne had found the parchment and was holding it while looking at Gendry.

“There will be no stop at Winterfell, The King of the North and the dragon Queen are headed to meet with Cercei gain the help of the Lannister army in the fight against the others. They requested,” Gendry paused for a moment and his eyes flickered to Arya’s, “they’ve requested Lady Brienne to join them in King’s Landing. We should leave at once to arrive on time.”

_So he isn’t here to see me. You fool, of course it was never about you. And he’s leaving you. Again._ Arya went to Brienne’s side and grabbed the parchment from her hand. “Brienne send for Sansa and Bran to meet me in the study, we’ll want to look this over before we invite the Northern Lords to a meeting in the great hall.”

“Yes, my Lady.” Brienne said with a bow and quickly took her leave.

“Arya.” Gendry started.

“I must be going.” Arya interrupted, feeling embarrassed and confused. “I’ll, umm, I’ll have some food and hot water send for a bath. You will want to clean up before the meeting with…everyone.” She was distracted and avoiding her eyes. Staring at the parchment in her hands.

“Arya.” Gendry pleaded as she walked to the door. Arya forced her eyes up, she was no coward. She gave him a tight smile as she turned back to him, but hid any other emotion that may have wanted to make it’s way to her face.

“I should really go. Sansa and Bran will want to have time to decide what to do and as you said. You and Brienne will likely leave at once. I’ll tell them to hurry with the food and bath.” Arya turned and hurried out the door so that she would not have to look at his stupid face any longer. She heard him call after her, but shut the door. Calling out to a page to fetch Ser Gendry some food and bath water. 

She looked down at the paper in her hand as she moved to the study to meet with her siblings. If Gendry spoke true, maybe she could use this news for herself. Sneak off join Jon, take Cercei off her dwindling list, and maybe see a dragon all the while. Who needed some blue-eyed boy, he was only good for leaving and besides, Arya didn’t even care. She pushed back a thought of his strong arm wrapped around her and her brief moment of happiness. _Stupid Bull, best he’s gone soon._ And she hurried down the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

Bran was looking across the room, out the window. He hadn’t said a word, but Arya still could tell that his mind was racing. Her eyes flickered at Sansa’s and she was taping the note against her wrist. She was breathing unevenly and staring at her feet, it didn’t seem like she knew that she was still in the room with anyone else. Arya’s own breath was coming in short. This was it. They were headed to Kings Landing. _Jon you stupid, idiot._ Some how his pigheaded plan had work, of course, it had nearly killed him. But, nevertheless, they had a wight, and were bringing it to Cercei, hoping it would help persuade her to their side.

 

Jon’s note had requested the service of Brienne, who could hopefully persuade Jaime (who could possible talk sense to Cercei) and Gendry to help escort. Brienne had been in the room, she was never far from Sansa’s side, and was already protesting.

 

“My ladies, I have promised to be at your sides and keep you safe. There is no greater-“

 

“Stop.” Arya looked up sharply. Sansa was the one who had paused Brienne’s forceful argument. “This is Jon’s wish. He wouldn’t have asked for you if it weren’t necessary. You are bid to go.” Sansa’s look was more sure than any time Arya had every seen from her before. Arya felt a smile overtake her face. _This is good_ , she thought, _Lady Sansa of Winterfell is taking charge._

 

Brienne of Tarth paused; she opened her mouth and closed it with unsaid words, giving up when she realized that the pack was in agreement. What Lady Sansa said was to be the rule of the land, at least in this case.

 

“As you command, my lady. My ladies and lord.” Brienne bowed deeply before seeing herself out.

 

Sansa blew out a large breath once Brienne was out of the room and both Arya and Bran looked at her for her reason. Sansa shrugged, “It’s the right way, isn’t it? I mean…Jon. He is our King. We are bid to do as he says.” Her look was much less sure once it was just shared with Bran and Arya. Bran gave her a quick smile and rolled over to grab her hand. Arya smiled at her as well, although, hers was much less broad. _Must Gendry leave so soon?_ But she wasn’t one to disagree with Jon, if there was nothing to keep Gendry, he should do the bidding of his liege lord.

 

Arya took Sansa’s other hand, more sure of her sister than she was of herself and smiled. She had asked the Gods to give her back her pack. And if Gendry was the sacrifice then it must be so. Sansa turned her eyes to Arya, those eyes that had turned so many young men to weakness; the blue of midday summer skies, and Arya could only nod. Winter was coming and Arya would not deter their only hope.

 

“We should let the Northern lords know of the new plan.” Arya thought aloud. “They should know that the threat from beyond the Wall is serious and being taken into account.” Her words were formal, probably too formal for family, for her pack. But Arya was still feeling disjointed from her meeting with Gendry. These last few months had been strange. Trying to bridge her No One past with the Arya Stark she had been and was again…perhaps it was too much too soon.

 

“If you don’t mind, I’m off to train for a bit.” Arya turned from her siblings. She could tell that there was probably more to say, but she wasn’t used to this much noise, this much chatter. When she was No One she mostly worked in silence, and there was no expectation of her to communicate without reason.

 

This was harder than she wanted. She was harder than she wanted. _You are such a disappointment._ She kicked at a stone that was in the hallway. Things had been so easy as No One. There aren’t any expectations – not from anyone – not from her. She wasn’t made for the court, give her a blade and a name and she was unstoppable.

 

Her feet had taken her to the courtyard. She looked at the gate and her breath caught as she remembered the lumbering boy on the weak horse that made their way through the other night. She turned and there were only tall walls everywhere she looked and suddenly she didn’t feel like she was at Winterfell. It was all closing in on her and she felt trapped and couldn’t catch her breath. Arya stole away down a familiar passageway.

 

She twisted and turned in the dark, down thru a cold stairwell. Her fingers ran across the hard edges of mold on the dark stones on her way to the crypt that ran below the castle. She didn’t need any lamp or light. After so many months of blindness there was a certain calm to blindness. In fact, after her first trip down here she had started to close her eyes, feel her way around the space. She knew where her father’s statue was, without any case behind it, since there was no body to be kept. She knew the size and sly smile on the face of her aunt Lyanna’s statue. The cold familiar faces were a comfort to Arya.

 

Arya took a deep breath of the still and dead air; then she began her ritual. It was relaxing running through her motions, a mixture of Syrio and Jaqen H’ghar’s teachings. She would randomly pull out her blades, the flow of movements almost like a dance. _Calm as still water,_ she twirled, _quick as a snake,_ as she pulled out two blades, _smooth as summer silk,_ she swept the swiftly across her body and then she lunged, _swift as a deer._

 

“Woah!”

 

Arya stilled, her blades stalled mid-air. She knew he was there; of course she had sense him in the room since the moment he walked down the stairs. He was still limping a bit, after all.

 

“Why are you here, Gendry?” She asked a moment before she allowed her eyes to open.

 

Once they were open, she focused her sight. It was dark, but he had brought down a flame and left it at the entrance when he arrived at the crypt. The shadows of all the fallen Starks shifted in the flame. Arya focused of the reflections of the flames on the blades in each of her hands for a brief second before moving her focus onto the skin just beyond.

 

Gendry’s throat undulated below her blade – it was almost beautiful the pulse of his heartbeat reflected in the movement against her blade at his throat. She licked her lips and slowly moved her eyes up to meet blue eyes.

 

She expected fear. She was used to fear. But Gendry’s head was quirked at her with wonder, and his eyes – it wasn’t fear – Arya was trying to categorize it when it vanished and was replace with a slight twinkle. Her eyes catching sight of a smirk on his lips.

 

Pushing a, hopefully, exasperated sigh out her nose and pursing her lips; Arya delicately dug her daggers a hint further into his neck and low belly before pulling back and placing them back into their homes.

 

“You idiot, how you are still alive is a mystery to me. You court death at every opportunity.” Arya said rolling her eyes as she finished tucking her blades away. Once they were secure she allowed a glance at him. His bright eyes twinkling in the faint light.

 

“Are you death?” He said with that well-worn side smile and an eyebrow raised. _If he only knew,_ Arya thought.

 

“It isn’t funny, I could have killed you and you are barely recovered.” She kept all emotions at bay. His smile faltered for a moment and Gendry looked at confused.

 

“You ran away.” He said. _You left_ , she thought. But of course, he wasn’t thinking of five years ago. She had offered him family, her pack, and he had turned it down. And here they were, _he’s back, but he’s about to leave her…again_.

 

Instead of answering his questioning look, Arya moved the conversation on, “Jon bids you join him in King’s Landing. It seems as though they have captured a wight and are bringing it straight to Cersei in the hopes that she can provide reinforcements for the fight with the Others.”

 

“Arya.” He protested.

 

“I’ve warned the stable of your departure and they have prepared your courser.” She wants to be alone again. Alone with her ghosts and her blades.

 

“I told Jon of our times together.” Gendry said. And that shut her up fast.

 

“What?”

 

“We were headed North of the Wall, actually about to meet up with Thoros, Beric, and the Hound,” He paused at Arya’s intake of breath, “Yeah, it was a strange gathering, “ he continue, “I had figured you dead years ago.”

 

“Stupid.” Arya murmured under her breath.

 

Gendry gave her a quick smile and nodded while continuing, “Yes, it was stupid, but..” he shrugged and Arya broke into a smile, “I had a feeling like you were in the world, but a bigger part of me thought that was,” he paused with a look, “ _stupid_.” And Arya laughed out loud, shaking her entire body.

 

“However stupid,” Gendry continued, “I was shocked to hear from your brother-from King Jon- that you were on your way to Winterfell. We received a raven before we headed out. He was so happy.”

 

It was all so much. Arya had been No One for so long, so unused to allowing herself to feel things as they happened. She ran her hand through her hair and roughly pulled it over her eyes, she didn’t want to be feeling anything, and worst of all, allowing Gendry to see her as it happened. She had never felt so weak.

 

“I..I feel like I’m telling this all wrong.” Gendry stuttered, unsure of himself, “It’s all good, I swear. He was happy to hear that you had been so brave as a girl, and I was so very happy to hear that you were still…well, alive.”

 

Gendry placed a warm hand on her shoulder tentatively; the other went to her hand covering her eyes behind her hair.

 

“I should never have left you.” And suddenly her grey eyes were looking into his big blue eyes, she felt heavy. His hands, like magnets, the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground.

 

“Umm..this is,” Arya was still trying to figure out her self and her desires, “..this is my private place. How did you discover it?”

 

Gendry blushed, but confessed, “I asked your sister where you were. She said you were often found here or in the Godswoods.”

 

At Arya’s shaking head, he added, “She was only trying to make you happy, she wouldn’t have told some bastard smith otherwise, that was made quite clear.” And Arya chuckled a bit, knowing exactly how coldly Sansa could have made that point come across.

 

“So, you met Jon?” Arya asked.

 

“Ay,” Gendry smiled and he put out his arm for her to link as they walked back towards his torch.

 

“How was he?”

 

“He..he’s stubborn. Like his sister.” He said pointedly and Arya laughed taking his arm, “He is good. He’s a born leader. He was kind to me, and when I introduced myself as a bastard he welcomed me and…was a friend.”

 

“Oh!” And Gendry dropped her arm, turning in front of her dramatically, “And then there was this bear, it was giant. But…” he leaned into her and she found herself leaning into him, “he wasn’t like any live bear. His fur was white as snow, but missing in chunks, yeah.. and his eyes…they were the most strange, glowing blue.” Gendry was walking backwards and gesturing with his hands, Arya was smiling and leaning into his animate performance, enjoying quite possibly the most excited mood she had ever seen from him. “And then he ran-“ And as Gendry said it his arm hit out and knocked the torch from it’s spot and it sputtered out. The crypt was taken over by darkness.

 

Arya blinked slowly to allow her eyes to adjust, but to be totally honest; she was probably more at home in the space in total darkness.

 

“Arya?” Gendry was obviously having more trouble with the lack of light.

 

“I’m here.” She guided one of his hands to her shoulder to help guide him out of the crypt. Once she placed his left hand on her left shoulder, she felt his right palm on her right hip. She sucked in a breath and her hand moved instinctually to her blade at her wrist. She relaxed her tense muscles and started up the stairs, careful to be slow for her newly blind follower. She was glad for the lack of light, Arya was sure that her body was glowing bright red where his large hands held her.

 

_How is he so warm?_ She wondered. It was cold at Winterfell, even the crypts while underground felt the shiver of winter’s approach. Arya could see her breath coming out in long clouds as she tried to calm her increasing pulse. Her blood seemed to be rushing to meet Gendry’s palms. She could feel every finger, could feel them griping tighter and Gendry moving a step closer to her on the stairs, his heavy breath on her neck causing her to pause on the steps. Arya felt suddenly sick, a little dizzy and the warmth from his hands tingling and rushing to the center of her body. She found herself bringing her own palm to her forehead.

 

“Are you lost?” Gendry asked at their pause.

 

“No, stupid.” Arya rushed on, trying to ignore the pulsating heat radiating from his touch. Finally Arya could see the light from the courtyard in their view and rushed towards it.

 

“See, not lost.” She turned at the top step to face him, feeling much more in control in the light of day.

 

A gust of cruel winter wind rush at them and Arya closed her eyes against it, only opening them when she felt Gendry’s hand move from her shoulder to brush the her wild dark hair gently behind her ear. She raised her eyebrow at him as he held onto the tip on her hair and pulled it just a bit.

 

“Nope, we’re here. Truly.” His fingers were lingering in the tips of her hair, his other hand still burning her hip. Arya’s heart was jumping at the strangeness of such touches. There had been closeness while she worked for the Many-Faced God, she had done what was necessary to bring the gift to whomever’s name was given. However, this was different. Arya felt weak for a moment, her breath fluttered and she looked up into Gendry’s eyes under the cover of her eyelashes. His face was flushed and serious. Too serious and his eyes too dark and deep. She would surely drown.

 

Arya caught her breath and swallowed, blinking rapidly she shook her head, “I have…I have to go.”

 

She tore herself from his warm hands and into the courtyard. And each step she took away made her feel stronger and surer. _Yes, whatever that look meant was best left behind._ Arya was an assassin and was best utilized as an emotionless weapon. She was still shaking off Gendry’s heat when she walked into the courtyard and the commotion caused her to pause.

 

Gendry’s body nearly collided with her’s from behind, “Woah.” He said with awe and wonder. _Yeah_. Arya couldn’t help be agree. Before them, at the opened gate, was cart after cart filled with strange sparkling dark rock.

 

Maester Tarly was giddy with excitement in front of them as he plucked one of the pieces of rock from the closest cart. “Dragon glass! Can you believe it?!”


End file.
